


Fifty Shades of Grey? Try Fifty Shades of Pink

by uglywombat



Series: The Beginner's Guide to Kinks by Steve Rogers [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Mild Angst, Mild Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Spanking, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: Steve had been MIA for four days (thanks to the successful purchase of some "buzzy things”) before he came crawling back to Bucky begging for another lesson.With the help of Clint, because Sam has been in a sulk for two weeks, Steve dips his toes into the spanking pool. And because Bucky is the master, there is always Plan B.Thank God for Plan B.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Original Female Character, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: The Beginner's Guide to Kinks by Steve Rogers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546885
Comments: 34
Kudos: 105





	Fifty Shades of Grey? Try Fifty Shades of Pink

**Author's Note:**

> We are back for another wild ride. Thank you so much for your kind words on the last chapter. I'm having a blast writing this and your kind words really spur me on. 
> 
> See you on the other side!

_ “Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Sam Wilson, aka the man with wings, slash Steve Rogers’ best friend. I am busy saving the world so leave me a message.” _

***********

_ “Hey, this is Sam Wilson, aka the man with wings, slash no longer Steve Rogers’ best friend. Not available as I’m off saving the world so leave a message. Unless you’re Steve or Bucky. And if this is Bucky, give me back my damn Fendi jacket.” _

**********

_ “It’s Sam. Seriously, anyone but Steve and Bucky is allowed to leave a message. And Bucky give me back my God damned jacket!” _

***********

James Buchanan Barnes loved Sundays more than anyone else in the entire world, and we would fight anyone on that. Sundays called for leisurely breakfast for one or two if he had special company over, coffee (of course) and browsing the  _ Times _ over his extravagant breakfast.

The afternoons were spent strolling around the boroughs, taking his time to wander through the myriad of small boutiques and trying artisan bread and cheese. Or sampling the sweet treats at the little patisserie around the corner from his loft, the one ran by the cute little thing he really, really wanted to teach a thing or two between the sheets.

Sunday evenings were usually spent soaking in the tub with a bath bomb or bath oil, depending on his mood, and a Korean face mask. If he was lucky, you would come over and join in the masks pampering session and you’d both watch  _ The Real Housewives _ or some equally trashy but fabulous reality show.

This morning, as Bucky whipped his scrambled eggs with a fork because the whisk was for peasants, his thoughts meandered to the company still snoozing gently in his bed. 

Last night had been hot. A solid eight and a half out of ten, which, given the drunk level of his company and last minute hookup hadn’t made for an entirely bad night if he was completely honest. In fact, he wondered if he could sneak in another quickie after breakfast.

As Bucky transferred his perfectly whipped eggs to his buttered frying pan he heard the familiar vibrating of his phone on the marble island bench behind him. 

Keeping a close eye on his eggs, because Bucky was a master in the kitchen and took pride in what he put on the plate (unlike Sam Wilson), he grabbed his phone and smiled seeing your message. 

_ We aren’t dead. Just….  _

Bucky laughed at the eggplant emoji followed by a fireworks emoji and quickly texted back,

**_Don’t I know it._ **

He smirked turning his attention back to his eggs as the sound of impatient and slightly aggressive knocking echoed through the loft. 

Bucky smirked knowing it could have been one of two people.

Sam Wilson hadn’t been seen in approximately two weeks after Bucky had stolen his Fendi puffer jacket and announced that Steve would be moving onto lessons about anal sex in the middle of the gym. Sam had taken out two agents and a punching bag in his attempt to escape the gym with his sanity. 

So, Bucky was ninety percent confident that it wasn’t Sam, who had been ghosting him ever since. 

The incessant knocker would more likely be Steve Rogers, his best friend and sex protege who had been M.I.A. since their visit to The Pleasure Chest to purchase a couple of vibrators three days prior. 

Bucky turned down his pan, because it would be a shame to ruin some perfectly good scrambled eggs by burning them, and made his way to the door. Pulling open the fire engine red door to his loft he was met with the exasperated, well-fucked gaze of Steve Rogers, his golden locks matted against his forehead and his cheeks blushed scarlet. 

Bucky smirked as Steve’s gaze travelled down his chiselled abs to his low slung track pants, the granite cut v on display. “My sincerest apologies Steven, had I known I would be having other company this morning I would have worn a shirt.”

Steve snapped his eyes back up to the steely grey orbs glittering with curiosity and humour. “Bucky, you are a sex genius and I need you to teach me all of your ways.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the apartment hallway as Steve shrunk in on himself hearing the firm tutting behind him. 

“Good morning Mrs. Marshall,” Bucky cooed over Steve’s shoulder to the sweet little old lady who lived down the hallway as she shot daggers at Steve. “Beautiful day isn’t it? I will see you at bingo on Thursday.”

To save Steve any further embarrassment and keep him from insulting any more of his neighbours, Bucky grabbed him by the bicep and dragged him into his loft. 

Sat at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee, Steve intently watched Bucky return to his eggs. His ears burned with embarrassment as he worked up the courage to go through with today’s mission, his purpose of being here instead of at home in bed where he really would love to be. 

“So, how may I be of service to you, Captain my Captain,” Bucky said teasing the eggs around the pan, because scrambling eggs was an art form. 

“The vib... buzzy things were amazing… it was like a Jesus has cometh moment.” The sudden rush of excitement spewed from Steve’s perfect lips. “I need you to teach me your sex ways.” 

Bucky smirked as he mulled over Steve’s desperate tone, imagining the harried look on his face as he sulked over his coffee. He didn’t speak until he presented Steve a plate of perfect scrambled eggs (minus the truffle butter because Steve had the palate of a four-year-old) and watched on as the heathen inhaled the impeccably fluffy eggs. 

“Is this your way of apologising, Steven? Is this your way of getting on your hands and knees and begging for forgiveness?” Bucky smirked at the scarlet red tinge to Steve’s face as he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact like a coward. “I need to hear you say it.”

Steve groaned and hid his face in his arms. Bucky would be remiss to admit that he wasn’t enjoying this at all. The great Captain America coming to admit he was wrong. 

“I have seen the error of my ways. You were right and I was wrong Buck.” It was barely a whisper and Bucky preened at the forced tone of its delivery. “I shouldn’t have doubted you with the…” Steve cringed at the word vibrator, his cheeks flushing rouge, “buzzing things. They worked.”

Bucky smirked behind his coffee cup. “Oh, I know. See, when I couldn’t get hold of you for two days I went and paid you a little visit. Your girl is quite the screamer when you get her going. Good for you grandpa.”

Steve groaned and dramatically dropped his head into his folded arms like a toddler. 

“Bucky?” 

Steve reached a level of red he had never before as a beautiful, semi-naked African American woman cruised out of the bedroom and towards them before pulling Bucky into a heated kiss.

“Come back to bed,” she purred catching her pouty bottom lip between her teeth.

Bucky cupped her cheek and spanked her ass, drawing out the perfect, feathery light whimper Steve has ever heard.

“Apologies Stevie but duty calls.”

Steve watched as Bucky was led towards the bedroom where a tall, handsome and well-defined man leaned against the wall. Bucky grabbed the Adonis (Steve was a little jealous) and pulled him into a heated kiss before throwing a look over his shoulder.

“Meet me at the docks tomorrow morning at seven. Don’t be late.”

*************

And that was how Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, found himself in an abandoned warehouse sitting opposite Clint Barton at a makeshift bar complete with a full range of spirits and snacks. 

Behind the bar stood Bucky, his hair perfectly styled in a messy bun with his arms crossed against his chest as he wished for a miracle. 

“Okay let’s try this again. Forget that Clint is Clint. Clint is your girl, the love of your life, the woman you are proud to have on your arm.” Bucky was close to pulling out his hair but he was a soldier, he had been through worse. Right? “Just tell  _ her _ .”

Clint batted his eyelashes and coyly giggled as he rested his cheek on his hand and gazed lovingly at Steve.

Okay, in hindsight, perhaps Clint did not make for a good substitute for Sam. Clint was most definitely not helping. 

Steve took a steadying breath and moved closer to Clint, or pretend you, and delicately ran his fingers over Clint’s (your) cheek. He could do this. Steve Rogers could DO this. 

“Did you wear that for me tonight, baby? You look so sweet. Like a doll, all dressed up just for me.” Clint preened under the attention and Steve had to fight back the urge to get the hell out of dodge. “But you’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you? Touching yourself without my permission. Do you know what happens to bad girls?”

Bucky had to admit he was impressed as he watched Steve grip Clint’s bicep and haul his torso onto the antique bar and pinning his hands behind his back. 

“That’s good, now spank him like you mean it.”

Steve raised his hand and brought it down against Clint’s ass. Clint giggled. 

“No, you gotta actually put some force into it. She’s not made of glass, she wants to feel it. Trust me, she wants to feel the pain. Now do it again.”

“Bucky, what if I…”

“Stevie, you aren’t going to hurt her. You know her better than anyone else in this world, okay. It might take a little time to find the ledge but this takes trust.” Bucky squeezed his bicep reassuringly, leaning over the bar. “But you also can’t pussyfoot around it. Now spank her like she’s a bad little girl who needs to be taught a lesson.”

Steve steeled himself, reaching into the recesses of his gut and feeling around for the inner Dom he knew he had in him, and spanked Clint right on the ass.

“Ouch! That hurt,” Clint gasped, his voice wheezy as his chest compressed against the hard top of the bar. 

Steve immediately began to apologize, pulling his friend off of the bar and pulling him into an awkward, consolidating hug. 

“Jesus Clint it’s supposed to,” Bucky chastised him. “Don’t be such a baby and take it like a man. And don’t apologize Rogers.”

Steve let go of Clint after affirming Clint was okay. 

“How did it make you feel?” Bucky asked pushing two fingers of whisky over to Clint and a beer to Steve. 

“Like I was going to hurt him,” Steve replied sulkily as he dropped his sullen body down onto the barstool, wincing as they wood groaned under the weight of his muscled body. 

“No offense to you Clint but I think we need to move on to plan B.”

Steve instinctively gulped and paled as Bucky pulled out his phone.

**********

It was a Friday night when you found yourself standing outside Bucky’s apartment, your bag full of wine and Korean face masks. 

Despite the exhausting and soul-draining week at work, thanks to a glitch in the accounting department, you were glad for the company and didn’t mind the trek into Soho. 

Steve has been called away on a mission that morning, putting a dash in your plans for a quiet night in with Pad Thai and a marathon of  _ Die Hard. _

Bucky had immediately texted after you had ended your call to Steve and had invited you over for a sleepover. Of course, it came with the request for you to pick up wine and face masks and he would provide an obscene quantity of the pistachio gelato from the sweet Italian Nona who made it the “proper” way.

Your grin faltered as Bucky opened the fire engine red door dressed in sinfully tight black jeans and an equally straining black t-shirt, paired with glittery purple Doc Martins. 

“I thought we were catching on  _ Ru Paul  _ in our PJs not going out today get you laid,” you pouted as Bucky freed your arms of the heavy bags and you followed him into the warm, inviting loft. 

The light heady scent of pomegranate, pepper and a mild wood immediately teased your senses as Bucky led you into the kitchen. 

“I’m afraid,” he said with a teasing tone as he placed the bags onto the bench, “there is a slight change of plan.” You furrowed your brow questioningly before following Bucky’s gaze to the bedroom. “I need to know you trust me.”

“Bucky…” His large, warm hand enveloped yours and it was oddly comforting. “I trust you, implicitly, you know that.”

He gifted you that charming, balmy smile that would often charm the literal pants off of unsuspecting folk, before pulling you gently into the bedroom. 

“Steve?”

On the Californian king bed sat Steve dressed in navy tracksuit pants and his white wife-beater, his smile drawn and apprehensive as his hands twisted on each other. 

“Hey, doll.” Those cerulean eyes locked on to yours as Steve stood up, towering over you, his large hands cupping your cheeks before pulling you into a tender kiss. His eyes searched yours before he whispered, “You just say the word and we can just go home. You and me. We don’t have to do this, okay.”

“Do what, Stevie?” you asked breathily, the heat radiating off of his body dulling your senses.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, sweetheart, and I need to punish you.” You looked over your shoulder to see Bucky watching intently from the doorway, resting his body against the frame of the door. Steve drew your gaze back to his. “Bucky is just going to… keep me in check.”

A breathy, wanton, needy mewl escaped your lips as a firm hand cupped your ass. “Yes, god yes please.”

A boyish grin and Steve pulled you towards the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and stood you between his thick thighs. 

“I want you to strip off your shoes, jeans, and cardigan like a good girl.” 

The husky, gravel-edged tone in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. The heated, ravenous glint in his cerulean eyes was like the blazing sun on your skin as he intently watched you remove your clothing, dropping each article on the floor with a smirk. 

Steve hummed, taking his eyes over your camisole clad chest and the barely-there lace thong, resting his hands on either side of his body. 

“Do you know what you did wrong, princess?’ The smirk on his face sat on the precipice of dark, duplicating the way his pupils blackened as he locked his gaze with yours. 

You could hear Bucky shift behind you, quietly closing the bedroom door before moving over to the blue velvet armchair you had spent many a night in drunkenly telling each other ghost stories with the lights off like children. And whilst you were blind to his movements and facial expressions, you could practically feel his eyes on Steve, appraising his work. 

Your lip caught between your teeth as you hung your head, hell-bent on playing the part. You yearned to make Steve proud and strangely, Bucky too. “I’m sorry, Captain, I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Steve smirked, the dark shift glazing his lips as he brought a hand forward and nonchalantly creeping up your inner thigh stopping short of your thong and slowly descending. It was agonizing, his fingers literally setting your skin alight. 

“I know you’ve been touching yourself and coming without my authorisation, my sweet little doll,” Steve purred, drawing his thumb across your knee gently.

_ Ah shit. _

Okay, Steve was correct, in that a month before you had come to an agreement that you would ask your Captain for permission to relieve some tension yourself. However, the fact that Steve was calling you out on your peccadillo in front of his best friend, who also happened to be the best friend who you were incredibly candid with, was surprisingly arousing. 

The wispy, thrilled breath that escaped your lips made Steve smirk, his hand moving to the back of your thigh. The familiar ebb and flow of his hand on your skin returned, this time teasing the cleft of your ass. 

“What do you have to say for yourself, doll?”

The apology, all small and meek, was pathetic, only serving to invigorate the dark shadow on his smile.

“Doesn’t sound like much of an apology to me,” Steve groaned with a hint of malice, the hard line of his cock very evident against the soft cotton of his track pants. 

“I wouldn’t accept that as an apology either pal,” Bucky drawled huskily. “In fact, if my gal gave me an apology like that she’d be finding herself strapped to the bed and getting to know my new belt.”

You dared to look over your shoulder to see the dark-haired man sitting in the blue velvet chair with his legs spread wide, his honeyed skin glowing in the dim lights of the room. His cherry, pouty bottom lip was caught between his teeth as you spied the outline of his erect cock straining against the sinfully tight denim, practically painted onto his perfectly sculpted legs. 

Steve drew your attention back to him with a sharp slap against the exposed skin of your ass. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” 

As he took in the slight shudder running over your body, Steve couldn’t help but give himself a small pat on the back, and Bucky of course. If it hadn’t been for Bucky’s research material (the good, expensive porn kind), having the opportunity to be a spectator in a scene with Bucky and a lady friend, and verbal role-playings with Bucky (in a private, sound-proof space, thank you), Steve would not be here today.

He would not be sitting on Bucky’s ridiculously comfy bed (seriously, where did he get this cloud-like mattress), his girl beautifully knocking her knees between his thighs, a small damp pool forming on her panties, and his inner Dom screaming to spank her.

At least he hoped. The practical, sheltered half of Steve’s brain was screaming at him that laying a hand on you was a bad idea. The thought of marking your skin, punishing you for something so inconsequential, was gut-rolling. 

But, it had been on your behest, your side of the kink wishlist that spanking sat. You wanted this, you needed this. And Steve could deliver, he just had to dampen down the protest persisting in his brain. 

“I’m going to give you ten spanks. A spank for each time you made yourself come without my permission, a spank for each time you took the opportunity for me to make you come, and four spanks to serve as a warning.” His voice was leaden chocolate, it weighed heavily and peacefully on you, your body literally singing an aria of begging. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Bucky’s groan was audible, as he shifted in his padded throne behind you. Steve’s eyes flickered to Bucky’s briefly, the movement so quick you barely caught it in the haze of searing adrenalin pumping through your body. 

Your attention was pulled back to Steve has his hand deftly gripped your ass cheek and he jerked you against his hot body. 

“Get on my lap.” 

Your hand instinctively caressed his cheek and your lips sought his tenderly as he winced at the gruff tone in his voice. You could practically feel him melt and settle under your touch and it wasn’t long before you found yourself draped over his lap. 

You were acutely aware of the hard bulge pressing into your stomach and the stormy grey eyes watching intensely from the corner of the room. You gripped onto the sheet intently, steadying your breaths. If Steve noticed you show as much as a glimmer of doubt he would spiral into a panic. 

Steve ran his hand over the globe of your ass, his hand potently hot against your skin, the rumble of his chest going directly to your core. “I want you to count each spank and I want you to thank me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

The first hit reverberated through your body, the sting delicious and poignant. “One. Thank you, Captain.”

“Harder, Stevie.” Bucky’s voice was laced with a heady lust, the excitement evidently bubbling in his chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you could just make out his tight grip on the arm of the chair. “Make her feel it.”

The second strike was stronger, the pain shooting through a nerve down your leg, a startled gasp fleeing in a flurry and his hand immediately came to rest on the assailed skin. His touch was soothing and grounding.

“Two. Thank you, Captain.”

“You’re doing really well, Stevie. You’re a natural,” Bucky mused as you felt his eyes examine your ass from the distance. “Again.”

The third spank hit like a bullet train, the shock sprouting through your nerves and tearing a pained cry from your chest. 

“Jesus Stevie, you’re doing great,” Bucky chimed in once more, his eyes blown and wandering. You could feel Steve preen above you, his chest puffing out at the praise. “What do you think, doll?”

You mewled as Steve gently squeezed your burning ass, pulling your focus away from the soft daze pulling you under. 

“Three. Thank you, Captain.”

“She’s a natural, Stevie, look at her fighting to stay out of subspace. I bet if you touched her she would be absolutely soaked. Ruining a perfectly good thong after just a few strikes. The perfect little sub.”

Steve leaned down and placed a tender kiss on your back, perfectly curling over himself thanks to the yoga you had been taking together for some time. 

The fourth hit took you by surprise, your cry vibrating as you clung onto the sheets. Your skin burned after the hardest blow yet, the tears burgeoning as the pain echoed through your nerves and muscles. 

The pain was intense but it was grounding and mouthwatering. You could feel the pool of moisture at the apex of your thighs, the desire to grind against Steve and find your relief all too consuming. 

However, despite the sensational need to come, more than anything you longed to make Steve proud. Bucky was right, you were tail spinning towards that doughy subspace. You needed Steve to bring you back down to earth. 

“Four. Thank you, Captain,” you wailed, tears streaming down your face as you choked back the sob desperate to escape. 

You felt Steve freeze before you were immediately pulled against his chest. He held you tightly, his hand soothing your back as he apologised so profusely, so quickly you barely registered the words.

“Steve,” you begged pulling his face to meet yours and you felt the bed dip beside you, “stop apologising. I’m okay. I promise you I’m fine.” You saw Bucky wrap a supportive arm around Steve as his other hand came to rest on your shoulder. “I really really liked it. I promise.” You sighed as you gently thumbed away the little stream of tears from his cheeks. “It’s like a massive release, all the shit of the week just goes away. Please believe me, you didn’t hurt me in any way I didn’t want.”

The soft pouty bottom lip shattered your heart and you looked to Bucky for guidance. 

“I am so sorry I pushed you to do this,” Bucky said resting his head on your shoulder as his hand fussed over Steve’s golden locks. “You have done nothing wrong okay, you were amazing and there is no shame in not being comfortable with it.”

Steve blushed scarlet as he roughly dragged his hand over his damp cheeks and you gently kissed at the sensitive skin. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hurt you.” His eyes were weepy and a pouty lip matched perfectly as it wobbled. “I just can’t do it.”

You shushed him gently before placing your lips against his, trying to ground him and blanket him with reassurance. “It’s okay. No more spanking. Spanking is crossed off the list.” 

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, desperately seeking comfort in the softness of your skin and the lingering scent of sandalwood in your hair. Slowly you felt the racing of his heartbeat gradually curtail and his breathing even-out as your hand continuously stroked his bare, muscular arm in a languid rhythm. 

Bucky’s beard tickled your cheek as he placed a small kiss there. “I’m going to give you some space and get that ice-cream.”

You gripped his hand as he moved from the bed and his stormy grey eyes locked onto yours. “Thank you, Bucky, for everything.”

He offered you a small, delicate smile before leaving you alone. 

“Hey baby,” you cooed brushing your fingers along Steve’s cheek, “we don’t need to talk about this now but I just need to tell you that you were amazing and I am so proud of you for trying.”

“But I failed…”   
  


You silenced him, delicately kissing him and savouring his heady, clean taste. “You didn’t fail, this isn’t a test, it’s not an exam. This is us just trying something new. 

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Steve, because life isn’t. It’s messy and unexpected. We wouldn’t grow if things were right all the time.” Your eyes locked. “But I wouldn’t choose anyone else to go through this messy, shitty, fucked up life with. You’re the only one for me.”

Steve smiled a wobbly, frail grin, tears threatening to fall before pulling you into a fierce kiss. “I love you so much.”

You slowly dressed as Steve remained seated on the bed, his mind rolling and spinning as he examined his hands intently and picked the imaginary lint from his pants. 

Once dressed, you gripped his hand and pulled him into the lounge area where Bucky had placed a bowl housing what you could only guess was about twenty scoops of pistachio ice-cream. 

Steve dropped heavily onto the sofa, the frame creaking under the brunt of his weight before sulkily shoveling a spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth. 

You retreated to the kitchen where Bucky waited for you with a shot of vodka and the remainder of the ice-cream still in its container and two spoons. 

“I’m sorry,” you said as Bucky downed the shot and quickly followed it with a substantial spoonful of ice-cream. You leaned into his side as he wrapped a warm, comforting arm around your waist and fed you a generous spoonful of ice-cream. “I should have known it would freak him out. I shouldn’t have pushed him.”

“Hush,” Bucky said as you watched Steve spoon half a scoop into his mouth. “If anyone should apologise it’s me for interfering in your sex life.”

“But I like you interfering with our sex life,” you chuckled watching Steve shove his head in the oversized bowl and lick it clean. “Seriously, he wouldn’t have been able to even put a hair into this without you. I’m really grateful and I know he is.”

Steve sheepishly made his way over, placing the empty and ice-cream free bowl onto the counter. “Do you have anything else to eat? I’m starving.”

Bucky smirked and retrieved a blood orange tart from the fridge. “It’s from the cute baker from the hole in the wall around the corner. Help yourself, buddy.”

You both watched on as Steve inhaled the tart before greedily licking his fingers as he savoured each crumb from the box, timidly choosing his words carefully. For a man charged with the safety of a nation, Steve was no spy. He was an open book at the best of times. 

“Thanks for the food, Buck, I feel better.” 

“Anytime, pal, you know that,” Bucky said offering him an equally shy smile. 

“And thanks for trying to help, I just want you to know that I really appreciate everything that you’re trying to do for us.” His fingers fussed over the magazine laying in front of him as he chewed his lip. “I didn’t like hurting you doll, I can’t… I could never hurt you.”

“Steve,” you leaned over the kitchen bench and took his worrying hands in yours, dodging the lit candles, “it’s okay.”

“I know, I know. I just… I need to tell you something.” You and Bucky shared an agog look as Steve pulled his hands from yours and made his way around the bench towards you both. “I really liked it when you were…” he ducks his head, “praising me.” His tongue fussed over his lips as he wrung his hands. “And I liked Bucky watching us.”

The breath Bucky expelled was heady, brushing the back of your neck as you watched Steve closely. “What did you like about Bucky watching, love?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed with a bashful smile, “I guess I liked knowing that it was me making you so wet.” Your eyes locked with Steve’s as he calmly stalked closer, pinning your back against the kitchen bench. Bucky remained beside you watching on in amusement. “You see, when I was small and weak before the serum, it was always Bucky who got the gals. But now, I get you.”

Steve cupped your cheek as he closed in on you, his lips resting millimeters from yours. His pupils were blown and hungry as he drew his nose along the bridge of yours, his perfect, long eyelashes fanning against his cheeks. 

“Do you like Bucky watching, doll?”

You could only nod, fearing you would faint as your head swam with adrenalin and your chest constricted with your feverish breaths. Your heart belabored in your chest, drowning out the faint sounds of the candles flickering around you. 

“Would you like Bucky to see the pretty face you make when you come on my tongue?” His grin was salacious and greedy as you mewled at the touch of fingers caressing your neck and collarbone. 

The thought of Steve making you come in front of Bucky was… well, the idea had definitely crossed your mind once or twice in your solo ministrations. 

“Oh fuck, please, Captain” you begged wantonly grinding against Steve’s thick thigh. 

“Would you like to watch, Buck?” Steve’s eyes remained pinned on yours as dragged the zip on your jeans down, his pace torturous and teasing. “My girl makes the sweetest noises when she’s about to come. All breathy, high-pitched and so needy.”

Your eyes locked on Steve’s, you felt Bucky draw closer, pressing his chest against your arm as his arm wrapped around your back and his cold to the touch vibranium hand coming to rest on your hip. You could feel his hard cock press into your waist as he towered over you, scenting your hair. 

“Stevie, I would like nothing more than to see your girl see stars.” His voice was taxed with honey and anticipation, his breath tickled your neck as he brushed his nose your neck, taking in the light fragrance of your perfume. “I bet she’s real pretty.”

You could have self-combusted, pinned between the two Brooklyn devils as they watched you intently taking in every detail of your flustered breaths and crumbling patience.

With the pace of a snail post siesta, Steve slowly drew your jeans down your legs before breathing in the scent of your very damp thong.

Your knees buckled as his tongue teased the lacy material and Steve wrapped your thighs with his thick, muscular arms, firmly holding you in place. 

“Would you do the honours?”

You shrieked as the vibranium hand gripped your lace thong, the nice one who had spent an hour searching for in the Black Friday sales, and ripped them from your body. 

“I’m still feeling a little peckish,” Steve growled as his eyes examined your lips, the telltale trickle running down your leg a reminder of how utterly debauched this was.

You were keenly aware of Bucky shifting beside you, the sound of the zipper descending down his jeans, one tooth at a time. 

You dared not look as he pulled his cock out of his jeans, not lest Steve tells you to. You could just spy the thick, uncut, angry-looking cock in Bucky’s hand as you peered down at Steve who was placing chaste kisses on your inner thigh. 

Your hands desperately clutched onto the kitchen bench for anchorage as Steve ran his tongue over your exposed pussy lips, forcing your legs apart further.

“I got you,” Bucky cooed in your ear, stroking your hip with his vibranium hand, and your hands relaxed against the bench, shutting your eyes tightly. 

Steve sluggishly drew his tongue through your holds over and over again, in no hurry to see this end, stopping short of your eager clit. 

For a man who had the patience level of a small child in the toy department during Christmas, Steve could draw out a tease that would rival Dita von Teese. He could dangle you over the precipice, taunting the promise of an intense, mind-numbing orgasm, literally getting off on the verbal assault of curses, begging, and cries before finally pushing you off of the ledge.

If there was something you had learned in the last few months in your kink adventure, Steve was quite taken with the choir of your desirous song, especially tied-down to your bed.

You found yourself being pulled down to the soft, fluffy space again as Steve slowly fucked you with his tongue, shifting your leg to rest over his shoulder. Had it not been for the sultry hot breath against your neck and the sound of flesh on flesh you would have nose-dived into the safe subspace. 

“You’re so beautiful, doll,” Bucky smirked as you mewled against Steve’s tongue dragging along your walls, “making all those pretty noises just for Stevie.” You made to turn your head only to wince at the pinch on your hip, courtesy of Bucky. “No, sweetheart, eyes on Steve only.”

You opened your eyes to see those stormy blue eyes watching you intently and crinkle as you sighed breathily. This was clearly the right thing to do, as Steve finally descended your clit with a flurried tongue. 

The supportive arm around your waist tightened as you buckled slightly at the intense feeling of Steve’s tongue furiously fluttering against your sensitive nub. Bucky’s lips sat millimeters away from your skin, his hot breath painting your skin soothingly as you felt his hand brush against your thigh as he rubbed his cock. 

As you felt your orgasm building you could feel Steve’s voice vibrating against your skin and though muffled you knew he was giving you permission to come. 

The orgasm itself was mind-blowing. Your legs shook violently as Steve furiously drove you through your orgasm, Bucky holding you from dropping to the ground like a bag of cement. 

As your orgasm ebbed, your mind still fuzzy and warm, Steve lurched up and assaulted your lips with his. His cock was rock hard as he rutted against you. He was desperate as he rocked into you, urgently trying to find some relief. 

Despite his teenage-like neediness, he was pliable enough for you to pin him against the bench and you dropped to your knees before him, taking his pants with you on your descent. 

Before he could protest, his big, thick you were lapping at his thick, weighty cock, relishing in the musky, heady flavour that was purely Steve. He needed little convincing to wrap his hands in your hair as you took him deep in your mouth, his hips rutting immediately. 

Steve slowly fucked your mouth, delighting in the feeling of his member dragging along your tongue and the needy mewls vibrating against his girth. 

“This is a sight,” Bucky mused as he watched Steve fuck your mouth, your eyes locked on each other as Steve chased his own release.

You finally slipped, landing softly in the cloudy subspace, swallowing as Steve came, his hands caressing your cheeks and hair. You were barely aware of Bucky coming in his hand as Steve pulled you up and hold you closely, soothingly fussing over your hair as you kissed languidly.

You were eventually drawn from the doughy clouds of subspace to find yourself sandwiched between Steve and Bucky on the couch, Steve slowly drawing his fingers over your scalp. You had been changed into a loose pair of track pants and  _ Man vs Wild _ was playing quietly on the TV. 

“Hey, welcome back to the land of the living,” Steve teased lightly, pressing a soft kiss to your brow. “How are you feeling?”

“A hundred pounds lighter,” you said leaning into him. “Thank you.” You turned to see Bucky watching with a small smile on his face. “Thank you, Bucky.” You placed a faint smile on his cheek before helping yourself to a glass of water from the table and a macaron. 

“Hey Stevie, are you always that cheesy in bed? ‘ _ I’m still feeling a bit peckish. _ ”

The laugh that bubbled in your chest was cheery and you snorted lightly, giggling further at the feigned hurt look on Steve’s face. 

“I don’t know how he can be hungry,” you told Bucky, “he ate most of our ice-cream and all the tart. He didn’t even save us a bit. I don’t think we should be inviting him to our Sunday nights again.”

Bucky scoffed and passed you an avocado face mask. 

The silence was companionable and comfortable as you watched Bear Grylls drink the diluted pee concoction, the three of you wearing face masks and drinking beer.

A part of you felt as though you should feel guilty or shamed by your little show in the kitchen, however, the relaxed, happy smile on Steve’s face was enough to dampen any doubts. 

You couldn’t wait to see what Bucky would teach him next.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave a comment x
> 
> https://imanuglywombat.tumblr.com


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